Waste
by Sweglord
Summary: In the years that followed a great solar cataclysm that left the once lush and verdant landscape an inhospitable wasteland, the Teletubbies suffered a betrayal that split them apart. Now Dipsy wanders the badlands, seeking retribution for a past mistake and to wipe the Teletubbies' slate clean forever. Facing old foes, former friends and his own guilt, Dipsy rides into the Waste.


"I told you to step outside." Dipsy looked down at the knife that had been forced into the table in front of him.

"Yeah, and I told you I was gonna finish my drink." He brought his whiskey to his lips, not looking up at the raider and his goons who were just across the table.

"No, you go now." The raider smacked the glass from Dipsy's grip, smashing it against the corrugated iron wall. Now he looked up, seeing the hulking frame of Milo of the Tweenie Tribe, a lesser warlord who Dipsy owed a fair amount of money.

"I told you you'll get it when you get it."

"And I'm saying I get it now." Banks of muscle clung to Milo's misshapen skeletal system, wrapped tightly in his purple, felt-like hide. Extensive UV radiation had mutated Milo and his tweenie warband, making them stronger. Stronger and uglier.

"You owe me a drink, Milo."

"I owe you shit. You're the one with debt here." The bar they were in fell quiet, hushed tongues passing rumour upon rumour between themselves with a scared sussonance.

"Yeah well that information you gave me was bad. There wasn't an ounce of TC in that place."

"That's not my problem is it, Dipstick. I want my money. Now." He spat every syllable out of his toothless mouth, sending phlegm and flecks of rotten sausage meat with them. The two nameless tweenie goons behind him laughed; it was about the most complex joke that they could understand.

"I think it is your problem," Dipsy said, standing.

"Oh, and why's th-" before Milo could finish the knife had been ripped out of the table and thrust into his eye socket. He stumbled back, a guttural howl falling out of his mouth. A couple of seconds passed before it registered with Milo's goons. Dipsy slung his revolver up from out of its holster, firing once. The bullet punched a hole through the left tweenie's neck just as an expression of rage carved itself into his boulder-like head, forcing him backwards onto the floor. The recoil kicked the gun back hard over Dipsy's head, giving the right goon too much time. The goon vaulted the table, brandishing a baseball bat with a railroad spike driven through near the head. Dipsy fought to bring the revolver down and aim it in time. He fired. Too early. The butt of the bat crunched into his chin, pushing him back hard enough to let him evade the full-blown swing that followed, hitting his back against the wall. The tweenie grunted as he raised the bat above his head, ready to drop it into Dipsy's skull.

"You're fucking dead." He roared as he brought the bat down. Dipsy sidestepped, getting his timing right this time. The railroad spike easily punctured the thin metal wall of the shack, catching as the goon tried to pull it out.

Dipsy lunged, pressing the revolver into the mutant tweenie's abdomen. He pulled the trigger five times, pumping as many slugs through his thick body. The goon screamed, blood exploding from his mouth as he fell disgracefully into his death throes, convulsing violently as he hit the floor. Dipsy stepped away and looked around. The first goon was still gasping for breath on the other side of the table, spluttering and heaving in a growing pool of blood. Milo wasn't dead either, instead hunched over clutching the hilt of the knife sticking out of his face.

"Fuck you, you green cunt," Milo said, pulling the knife slowly put of his skull, "I'm going to take both of your eyes."

"You should have told me where the TC really was." Dipsy wiped some of the second goon's blood from his face. The bar was silent but for the tweenie fighting for life on the floor, with any spectators who hadn't fled keeping completely quiet.

"It's up your ass."

"Last chance, Milo." Dipsy raised the revolver, lining the sight up with the mutant's good eye.

"Fuck you."

Dipsy pulled the trigger. Click. Click click. Milo laughed.

"I counted six, Dipstick. That comes after five, and before seven."

"Surprised you can count that high."

Milo howled, bringing his arm down on the table, smashing it in two. "I'm gonna kill you slow."

Dipsy threw a punch, landing it on Milo's wounded eye. Milo yelled in pain, stabbing wildly at the teletubby. Dipsy dodged easily, stepping back and kicking Milo into the wall. Recovering quickly he slashed at Dipsy again, this time nicking his chest. The tweenie smirked slightly as he grabbed at Dipsy, plucking him off the floor before hurling him round 180 degrees into the wall. Milo held Dipsy up, raising the knife up to his face.

It can't end like this, Dipsy thought to himself. There's still shit to do. You've still got to deal with the others.

He reached to the side, grabbing the bat, still stuck in the corrugated iron. He pulled at it, budging it slightly.

"Like that's going to work," Milo whispered, bringing the knife closer to Dipsy's right eye, "I'm going to start with this one."

Dipsy pulled again. The goon had got it most of the way out before Dipsy had killed him. The knife blade crept closer, millimetres away. Dipsy screamed with exertion, using everything he had. The bat came loose, flying out of the wall, swinging round into Milo's head. Dipsy fell free as Milo stumbled backwards, holding his face. Dipsy drove the butt of the bat into Milo's stomach twice, causing the tweenie to double over. He brought the bat up, swivelling it around so that the railroad spike was pointing the right way.

"Jake'll come for you, you teletubby fuck," Milo said, facing Dipsy as he spoke. Swinging the bat like a golf club, Dipsy brought it down in a crescent and up into Milo's face, following through momentarily before letting go, leaving it and the colossal, mutant tweenie to fly backwards.

There was next to no noise in the bar. The first goon gave up, choking on his own blood and falling quiet. Dipsy spat on Milo's body, threw down some money for the drink and stepped outside.

"Better get on the road, then."


End file.
